


Time it's time

by Siera_Writes



Series: Life's what you make it [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers, alternate ending for 1x11, because apparently that's the only plot point I can write now, demon!wesley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 14:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3899809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siera_Writes/pseuds/Siera_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That man, there's something wrong with him for sure. Smug, cold, so self-assured. She hates it, feels her blood boil, the already-present adrenaline singing, electric. The smirk plastered over his face riles her, and she clenches her hands around the edges of her seat. His glasses glint occasionally, depending on how he tilts his head. It's disconcerting, eerie. They're flat, like his eyes, emotionless and hollow. Like he's not really a person, just some sort of malicious spectre masquerading as a human being.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time it's time

**Author's Note:**

> I watched Daredevil, fell in love with James Wesley, got sad, then saw this post: http://erebusodora.tumblr.com/post/117795253631/i-can-explain
> 
> Oops.
> 
> Title from this song: http://youtu.be/nwkrNNeVTWk

As soon as the idea springs hair-trigger into her brain, she knows she has to do it. Knows it's the only way to safely get away from the man sat so serenely across the cheap table from her. Karen remains slumped, hyperaware of the bag beside her, the placement of everything in the cavernous space; concrete pillars partition walls and debris strewn haphazard, the gun.

The gun. Wesley's tempting fate, has a death wish or something. It's not exactly close to her, but the distance from him, the confidence he has in her submission to his threats, unnerves her. What reason does he have for the cockiness?

That man, there's something wrong with him for sure. Smug, cold, so self-assured. She hates it, feels her blood boil, the already-present adrenaline singing, electric. The smirk plastered over his face riles her, and she clenches her hands around the edges of her seat. His glasses glint occasionally, depending on how he tilts his head. It's disconcerting, eerie. They're flat, like his eyes, emotionless and hollow. Like he's not really a person, just some sort of malicious spectre masquerading as a human being.

She takes a shuddering breath, trying determinedly to stop the tremors that threaten to wrack her body, to resist the urge to fling herself out of the room, or to snatch the piece from the table. God knows he's probably faster than her. He's certainly stronger, though the chloroform or whatever that shit was probably aided him in physically subduing and carrying her away. 

She continues canvassing the room with hungry eyes, desperate for some situation to miraculously materialise, to give her a chance. She can't deal for much longer with the way he's talking to her, the snappy replies no pretentious language. He treats her like she's an idiot. Karen knows she isn't. She couldn't have got this far if she weren't. 

Memories of blood flash broken in the fore of her mind.

More tears well, stinging and salty. She shakes her head, subtle as she can manage, to clear her head of the dark images.

She barely thinks when it happens; it feels like she hears the phone ring after the gun is already clamped in her shaking hands. The metal is cool, silk smooth and impossibly real on her skin. Strangely familiar. She can barely comprehend the situation - it's too ridiculous to fully compute, acknowledge, at this point in time.

The phone keeps ringing.

She just sits, fury buoying her, gun levelled at that bared throat, finger poised on the trigger. He just sneers, lips a thin and cruel slash across his face. She can't believe this, after the treats to her family, her friends. The supreme arrogance he casts like a shadow around him. He obviously doesn't believe she can do it, doesn't believe she has the spirit and courage to take action, to damn his soul - what little he has - to hell.

He speaks, voice low and rich and dripping with conceit. "Do you really think I would put a loaded gun on the table where you could reach it?" His brows are quirked, the amusement he finds in the events current obvious. 

Her voice is barely timorous, compared to the fear she feels. Whatever happens, she is certain the gun has a clip in it, can feel the weight between her palms. "I don't know." She pulls with slipping fingers at the safety. It clicks. "Do you really think this is the first time I've shot someone?" There's no obvious change in his expression, no minuscule tells that might prove his humanity or instinct.

Karen almost thinks she won't do it, as he moves to stand, carelessly adjusting his glasses, but the impulse overwhelms her, some darkness carrying her to the edge. The crack of the shot echoes in the naked space.

He just looks offended. Karen's stomach drops as terror fizzes in her veins.

She pulls at the trigger in instinct again, again, again, how many times she doesn't know. Shells clink to the floor.

The man across from her just glances down, unmoved, at his ruined dress shirt. Looks up, a deeper, thicker darkness coalescing behind his eyes. Karen drops her arm, stumbling back, eyes wide and breaths heaving. She thinks she would've cried, if she'd seen a lifeless body before her.

But there isn't one. Fisk's associate rises to his full height, huffs a small laugh as he swipes flecks of invisible dirt from his front with dismissive motions. The dark in the room seems drawn to him. He looks at her from below his heavy brow, eyes silvery and harsh in the sharp halogen light. The smirk from before is back. He steps around the table, measured and calm, as she backs into the crumbling wall, trapped.

"Oh, Miss Page." He takes the opportunity to bare his teeth in a wretched facsimile of a smile. "You've made a terrible mistake."


End file.
